Lethal Game

by Julie Rowe

  One man ran past Con, and he tripped the guy so he could find out just what the hell was going on.

  The man shouted in Arabic that he hadn’t done anything wrong.

  Con pointed his weapon and the guy and replied in the same language. “Only a guilty man runs away.” He flashed a hand signal at Smoke and River and they dissolved into the darkness again. If there were a half-dozen men where he could see them, how many were there where he couldn’t?

  “Holy shit,” Henry said, running up to Con and pointing his weapon at the local on the ground. “What the fuck is going on? Did this guy do something?”

  “I don’t know. Get geared up and find Macler and Norton.” The fact that both men still hadn’t appeared, and there was no way they would have missed all this commotion, was not a good sign.

  Henry glanced around. “Fuck.” He took off for the tent to get his gear. “Come on, Stalls, the sergeant says gear up.”

  “Smoke, River,” Con said to the two men who looked more like shadows than real people. “Keep an eye on the camp. See if you can figure out who’s stirring up trouble.”

  Both men nodded and faded out of sight.

  “Con?” Sophia’s voice was low and tight behind him. “What can I do?”

  “Stay where you are for now. I may have to move. If I do, it’ll be your job to defend yourself and the lab. Don’t let anyone in. If it isn’t one of us, shoot them. Got it?” He wasn’t going to lose her, not to anyone or anything.

  “Len, too?”

  “Yeah, Len, too. If it comes to that, tell him I ordered you to shoot him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Sophia tried to regulate her breathing, but she had too much adrenaline in her system. Having someone wake you in the darkest part of the night, then tell you to be quiet and get your gun out, had that effect on a person.

  It was the first time it had happened to her.

  It sucked.

  It seemed like there were a hundred people running around the tent site, some yelling in a foreign language, others carrying what looked like pieces of pipe or tools. Her hands shook with the need to do something, anything, but right now the best thing for her to do was stay still and quiet and let her brain process what was going on.

  Con had a man on the ground, his fancy rifle, or whatever they called it, aimed at his chest. Henry and Stalls exited the other tent, now wearing their body armor and carrying their rifles properly.

  Their delay in responding to what could’ve been a dangerous attack wasn’t going to look good on any report.

  Seconds ticked past and the noise and movement of people slowly calmed down, until she had no problem hearing every word Con said to his captive, despite the fact that she didn’t understand any of it.

  Henry and Stalls came back around the tent.

  “Sergeant, we found Macler and Norton. They’re unconscious about thirty feet away. Looks like someone bashed them on the head with something.”

  “Probably a pipe or whatever the men who hit them could get their hands on,” she said.

  Con said something to the man he’d been questioning. The man got to his feet, and backed away, keeping all of them in his sights until the darkness swallowed him whole.

  “Sophia,” Con said, his gaze telling her to take care, or else. “We’ll be right back.”

  She nodded, her throat too constricted to allow her to swallow.

  The three soldiers vanished and she focused on the surrounding darkness. Shouts were still echoing through the cool, still air, but they were much farther away now.

  If I were a bad guy I’d pick now to do something awful. Sophia backed into the tent until the shadows in the blind corner of the entrance hid her completely. She tilted her head and listened hard, not just in front of her but all around the structure. If someone wanted to stop what she was doing, damaging her diagnostic equipment would accomplish that.

  There was movement in the darkness between the lab and the hospital. Two people emerged, walking toward her.

  She took a step forward, intending to order them to stop, just as someone shoved a knife through the tent wall behind her.

  Unknown parties coming at her from two directions. Wonderful.

  She grabbed her open bottle of water and as soon as the head of the person who cut the hole in the tent came through, she tossed the contents in his face.

  She pointed the Beretta at the two coming toward her from the other direction. “Stop.”

  They didn’t stop.

  She fired a warning shot in the air.

  They stopped and put their hands up.

  Behind her, the man who’d cut the hole in her tent had stumbled back and fallen, yelling in a language she didn’t know.

  A large body whipped around the wall of the tent.

  In the darkness, she couldn’t see who it was and shifted to point her gun at him, but he hurtled past her, launching himself through the slit in the tent.

  Connor.

  A brief intense wrestle on the ground knocked Connor and the man she’d doused against the tent. A couple of seconds later, Connor dragged the man by his neck around to the front where she could see him, then dropped the man on the sand and put the muzzle of his rifle under his chin.

  He crouched there, his hands steady on the weapon, his gaze seeming to take in everything at once. The calm competence he exuded was palpable, and it bolstered her own confidence.

  Henry and Stalls arrived a moment later, fireman-carrying Macler and Norton. Both men were still unconscious.

  She took a step toward them, but Connor’s voice stopped her. “Wait.”

  Smoke appeared on the other side of the sleeping tent. He flashed a couple of hand signals at Connor, who replied in their secret sign language. Smoke disappeared again.

  “There’s trouble brewing in the camp,” Connor said in a whisper that didn’t carry. “River and Smoke are keeping an eye on it, but it could blow up on us.”

  “We have to help them,” she said between clenched teeth, looking at the two unconscious men dangling from the shoulders of Henry and Stalls.

  “We will, but we’re going to do it when we’re sure the threat is over.”

  “Put them inside the sleeping tent,” Sophia called out.

  Henry and Stalls followed her orders without hesitation.

  One of the two men who had stopped with their hands in the air yelled out, “It’s Len and Dr. Blairmore. Can we help?”

  Sophia looked at Con, who gave her a short, single nod.

  She lowered her weapon, but kept both hands around the butt. Just in case.

  The man who’d cut the hole in her tent yelled something.

  Connor and Len didn’t react, but Dr. Blairmore jerked liked he’d been shocked.

  Dr. Blairmore rushed to the man she’d thrown the water at. “What did you throw on him?”

  “Excuse me?” Sophia couldn’t quite believe the accusation in his voice. “That man came through the tent with a knife in his hand. Would you have preferred I shot him?”

  “What did you throw on this man?” Blairmore asked again, anger giving his voice an edge.

  Connor’s body had gone still. “How do you know she threw anything on him?”

  “Well, he’s covered in something wet, so she must have thrown something at him.”

  “There’s no cause and effect to connect me to someone with a wet face,” Sophia told Blairmore coldly.

  “You speak Dari,” Connor said to Blairmore. It was an accusation.

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing.” Connor’s teeth gleamed white in the darkness. “Except you inferred that Len was both a bodyguard and a translator.”

  “I speak enough Dari to get by,” Blairmore retorted. He gla
red at Sophia. “What did you throw on this man?”

  “I’ll answer your question if he explains why he used a knife to cut himself a new entry into my tent,” Sophia answered with a thin-lipped smile.

  No one said anything.

  “Aren’t you going to ask him?” Sophia asked him, rapidly running out of patience.

  “Well, I thought one of you would ask,” Blairmore said, looking at Connor and Len.

  “Doctor,” Connor drawled. “If you want to know what Dr. Perry may or may not have thrown on this idiot’s face, an idiot who cut up an American Army tent with a knife long enough to fillet a camel, you’re going to have to ask him his motives.”

  “I’ll ask,” Len said with a laugh as plastic as his personality. “Just to cut through all this bullshit.”

  “No,” Sophia told him. “Dr. Blairmore is a big boy. If he’s fluent enough to understand what this man was yelling, he’s fluent enough to ask a simple question.”

  Blairmore glared at her, then haltingly asked the intruder a question.

  The man spit on the sand.

  Blairmore opened his mouth, to say what, Sophia wasn’t sure, but she didn’t care either. “I got it. A spit is a spit in any language.”

  Blairmore opened his mouth again and again she spoke first. “Water. I threw water in his face. Clean bottled water.”

  Blairmore said something in Dari to the man, who relaxed a fraction.

  Blairmore looked at her and sneered. “Stupid woman. We need these people’s cooperation, if not respect, in order to continue our work here.”

  “I need for someone to not stab or shoot me,” Sophia replied. “So I can do my work and leave. Now,” she said taking a step toward him, “tell me what awful thing you, and this man, thought I’d thrown on his face.”

  Blairmore’s jaw sagged for a moment, before he drew himself up and retorted, “I don’t understand the question.”

  “Both of you were quite worried I’d thrown something dangerous on him. Something that could pass as water, or be transported in water. What is it?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sergeant Button.” She turned to Connor. “Please tell us what the penalties are for impeding this investigation?”

  “Penalties?” Blairmore sputtered. “What are you talking about? You’re here to help me.”

  “The United States Army Biological Response Team,” Connor said in a clear, loud voice, “has been tasked with, and granted investigative jurisdiction over, this outbreak by the World Health Organization and the government of Lebanon.”

  Blairmore’s jaw dropped again. This time, it stayed down.

  “If you are deemed a danger to, or an impediment of, said investigation, the penalty is ten years’ incarceration in the country the offense occurred.”

  “You’re here to help us,” Blairmore said in a small voice.

  “No,” Sophia told him. She had no time or sympathy for idiots. “I’m here to determine the pathogen causing this outbreak. My only goal is to save lives. If you can’t or won’t assist that goal, get the fuck out of my way. If you choose to ignore this last warning, I will make sure you get thrown into the deepest, darkest hole available for every second of those ten years.”

  He stared at her, so silent and still he had to have stopped breathing.

  “I’m waiting for you to respond with your agreement to comply or your departure plan,” she said. “Which is it?”

  Blairmore swallowed so hard she could see it from where she stood. “I...I understand.”

  “Good. What did you think I threw on him?”

  Blairmore took a long time to respond. When he finally did, he stuttered through the whole sentence. “I was told that...that you might try to steal the credit for all the work I—We’ve done here.”

  She waited.

  “One of the local leaders told me you might try to test a new vaccine for Ebola here.” He shrugged with one shoulder. “He’d heard a rumor that the American military wanted to test a vaccine made from the live virus. That you needed an isolated population and that this vaccine could be delivered by mixing it with water, and consumed or even absorbed through the mucus membranes in the mouth, nose and eyes.”

  “And you believed this shit?” she demanded. “No reputable doctor would condone such an action.”

  Blairmore sneered at her. “You aren’t a people doctor.”

  She examined his face and saw nothing but disdain colored by fear.

  She would get no help from him, nor could she trust him. She took another step forward. “You are a fool. Stay out of my way, stay away from this area and if you do or say anything to jeopardize this investigation, you will find yourself in that hole.”

  Dr. Blairmore lost the sneer, but not the disgust as he turned and hurried back to the hospital tent.

  “What about him?” Len asked, pointing at the guy who’d knifed his way through her tent.

  “Check with me later,” Con told him. “After I’ve questioned him.”

  “I’ve seen him around,” Len said. “He’s well known in camp. If he stays missing for long you’re going to have an even bigger problem on your hands.”

  Con flashed his teeth. “Won’t be a problem if he’s found on the other side of camp, dead of a couple of knife wounds, will it?”

  Len shrugged. “Probably not.” He looked at her and nodded. “Let me know if you need any help.” With that, he headed back to the hospital.

  Sophia watched him walk away. It was almost a swagger. “Still taking your water plain?”

  “I think so.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “Con? Doc?” River’s voice floated out of the dark.

  “Here,” Connor answered. “We’re okay, but we’re down two marines.”

  River came around the lab tent and crouched next to the man Connor had taken captive. “He’s been missed. You’ve got maybe ten minutes before a very large angry crowd comes looking for him.”

  Sophia stepped closer to look down at the man on the ground, his damp face reflecting the low light from the flare. “Do you understand me?”

  He didn’t respond.

  Connor translated.

  She saw a tightening of his lips. Good enough for her.

  “I am a woman,” she began slowly so Connor could translate as she spoke. “I didn’t come here to kill or hurt or experiment. I came to help the women and children of this camp. I came to help the fathers and brothers and leaders of this camp. Men make war. I am not a man.”

  The man spoke rapidly for several seconds. Connor translated.

  “One of our brothers swore on his life that you came to kill our women and children with your poisons.”

  “I don’t know your brother. I have never met him, but I can show you why I would never do that to anyone else.” She began to unbutton the sleeve of her left arm.

  “What are you doing?” Connor hissed.

  “I need to show him my pain.”

  “You don’t need to show him anything.” Connor shook his head, saying, “This is totally fucked.”

  She started rolling up her sleeve and though the man on the ground tried to shy away when she bent to give him a good look, he did look.

  She turned her arm to show him every scar, every bruise. “I had a cancer when I was a child. The doctors did many things to me to save my life. Many painful things.” She turned her arm again and the man stared at her arm with eyes gone wide. “None of it worked. I grew weak and everyone thought I would die. But I didn’t. I began to get better. Not because of the things doctors did. My body simply...got better.”

  “Allah,” the man whispered.

  She nodded. “I made a promise to try to help everyone. Until my dying breath, I would do nothing
to harm, only heal.” She rolled down her sleeve and buttoned the cuff.

  The man pointed at different places on her arm, and said something.

  Connor translated. “You are sick now. How can we trust you, when sickness is still inside your body?”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sophia regarded the man with sober eyes and said, “Can you show me a person who is without blemish, without sadness or fear? We all have flaws. Some people have visible flaws, while others hide theirs. I choose not to hide mine.”

  The man stared at her, but for the first time since Connor got a hold of him, his face wasn’t twisted with hate and fear. He looked...thoughtful.

  “Were you trying to kill the doctor?” Connor asked him.

  The man reared his head back a little. “No, killing a woman is cowardly. I only wanted to destroy whatever is in that tent.”

  Con relayed that information to Sophia.

  She sighed. “I admit, I’m not sure what to do next. If people in the camp are upset that he’s disappeared, should we let him go?”

  He’d prefer to make the bastard disappear. Permanently. It was guys like this who killed his friends, his teammates. It was guys like this who thought they were on some holy crusade, that their deaths meant something, when all they really were was cannon fodder.

  “Do you have a wife and children?” Con asked him.

  “Yes,” the man answered.

  “Are they sick?”

  “No.”

  Well, fuck. It would be so much easier if he could just kill the guy and leave him to be found in the desert.

  “Go,” Con told him in a clear, cold voice. “If you come back and try to attack us again, I will kill you.”

  The man lay still and silent for a moment, then scrambled to his feet and backed away, never taking his eyes off of Con. A little ways away, darkness consumed him

  “I can’t decide if that was a good idea or not,” Sophia said staring after him.

  “Neither can I,” Con told her.

  “Is it true about the ten years in jail?” she asked. “I thought he would just get deported.”